


the waiting game

by emianium



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, they're there but it isn't very detailed, vague mentions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22014250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emianium/pseuds/emianium
Summary: hello!!! this is for the ffxv secret santa for ignisgayentia on twitter!i hope you like reading it just as much as i liked writing it(also happy late birthday i meant to post it yesterday but was busy :^(( but i hope you enjoy it regardless!!!)(also also im not very good at titles but you know what, it works)
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	the waiting game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ignisgayentia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignisgayentia/gifts).



> hello!!! this is for the ffxv secret santa for ignisgayentia on twitter!  
> i hope you like reading it just as much as i liked writing it
> 
> (also happy late birthday i meant to post it yesterday but was busy :^(( but i hope you enjoy it regardless!!!)
> 
> (also also im not very good at titles but you know what, it works)

In hindsight, if Prompto had known he was going to be trapped almost right after he heads to Gralea, he probably would’ve asked Aranea to tag along. No telling she’d agree but she’s already solidified herself as Prompto’s Honorary Older Sister Who Will In Fact, Kick Your Ass, so there’s a pretty good chance she’d agree (begrudgingly most likely, but it’s obvious she wants to spend any time she can with this literal ray of fucking sunshine).  
But he didn’t ask, so she couldn’t agree.  
And now here he is.  
Strung up on a metal crucifix-thing, bars digging into his ribs and his arms restrained above him, pulling him down and pulling on literally everything in his upper body.  
At least he trained for the Crownsguard so it doesn’t hurt as much as it could.  
Nevermind, his arms just got pulled higher by some kind of machine he couldn’t see. It tugs on his arms, pain erupting not only in his arms, but his chest, pushing onto the bars even harder. He wheezes, unable to let out a cry for help. His vocal chords are damaged enough from yelling at Ardyn to “fuck off and get over here so I can kick your ass”. Prompto may look like a string bean with definitely-not-chocobo-hair, but he can kick ass if need be. Which he will. He’s not someone who needs saving.  
Scratch that last thought, he does need help.  
He hears a deep chuckle, Ardyn, he thinks, staring at the ground but slowly bringing his eyes up to look in front of him. All he can see are bars, like the shit you’d see in a jail cell. Is that where he is? A jail cell?  
“As soon as I get out of here, I’m kicking your ass.” Prompto says, and although it’s farther on the quieter side than he would’ve liked, he hopes his message was still heard. All he gets in reply is a faint chuckle, the kind you’d have to strain your ears to hear.  
Fucker.  
Prompto lets out a strangled sigh. There really isn’t much he can do here, is there?  
He already knows the answer to that question.  
For now, he stays there. Hanging, stuck to a metal pole.  
For now, he waits.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been. Minutes, highly unlikely it’s only been a few minutes.  
Hours, probably. Although not as probable, still pretty likely.  
Days, even more likely than just hours.  
Weeks, he can only hope that it hasn’t been weeks since he fell but a part of his brain tells him so.  
Did they leave me behind? Did they forget about me?  
He really fucking hopes not.  
His ribs hurt. So do his arms, and legs, and literally everything else.  
Everything really fucking hurts.

He also kinda needs to piss.

He waits.

And waits some more.

And waits even more than that.

Holy shit how long is this gonna take, he thinks.  
“Hey, how long is this gonna take,” he whispers, voice still not completely back, trying and somewhat succeeding to keep his voice from wavering and cracking. “I’m getting sore and I’m really fucking hungry. I don’t know how much fun you’re having with this, but it stopped being fun for me the second I got here. Can I go home now?”

“But where is home? As I recall, you don’t have one anymore. But I suppose that’s what happens when you kill your own daddy dearest, hm?”

Prompto’s head shoots up. Pain also shoots up his neck. He winces. How the fuck did Ardyn hear him? Why the fuck did it take him this long to reply? And why did he think it was a good idea to move his head so fast? If he was standing, he surely would’ve fallen onto the ground due to lack of iron. Although that isn’t much different than what happens every time he stands up. He really needs more iron in his diet.

“Uh, in case you didn’t remember, you old fuck, he isn’t my dad. He never was my dad. He hasn’t earned that right, and he never will.” Ardyn doesn’t say anything else. Hey, maybe he got upset over being called an old fuck. Prompto chuckles, throat on fire after so long of not talking.

He really needs like, a glass of water or something. And a nap. Definitely a nap.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but at least he feels semi-refreshed. A bright light shines and hurts his eyes. Must be what woke him up. As the light gets closer and brighter and his eyes adjust to the light, two other lights appear. A thought runs through Prompto’s sleep-deprived mind.  
Did they come for me?

He doesn’t have to wait for an answer, because soon enough, Noctis and Gladio are standing in front of him while Ignis waits behind them. Prompto falls to the floor, Noctis just barely managing to catch him so his already weak knees don’t slam onto the hard, cold ground.  
After that, his brain gets fuzzy. He faintly recalls asking them if they were worried about him, and their faces as soon as the words leave his mouth. He remembers Noct says ‘of course we were!’ and ‘what kind of question is that?!’. After that, he doesn’t remember much. After that, he probably passed out.

Ignis sits on the bed next to Prompto. Gladio and Noctis have long gone to bed in the bunk next to him. He doesn’t know what time it is, hasn’t been able to tell for who knows how long. All he knows and cares about at the moment is Prompto’s sleeping body next to his. He’s still warm, and his bruises still tender and fresh. Ignis doesn’t know the extent of his injuries but from what he’s heard from the others, the bruises aren’t good. Neither is Prompto’s voice. None of Prompto is currently in a state of “good” right now. He wishes he could see for himself, but brushes that thought aside and sits there, Prompto to his right and his cane by his left, waiting for Prompto to wake.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long. Prompto stirs next to him, slowly but surely waking up. He feels him shift, sitting up against the headboard like Ignis.  
“Iggy? You’re still up?” Prompto murmurs. Ignis doesn’t move much, but still leans closer towards Prompto, not enough to for him to notice but enough for Ignis to know.  
“I am. I was worried about you, as were they. Are you feeling alright?” Prompto lets out a breathy laugh.  
“Honestly? I’m not doin’ so hot here. Everything is sore and I feel like I swallowed a shit ton of sandpaper,” Ignis opens his mouth, but Prompto cuts him off. “Yeah, I noticed the water bottle. I’ve been drinking some, don’t worry.” This time it’s Ignis who laughs.  
“Of course I’m going to worry. I may not know the entirety of your wounds but I know enough to know they’re not good. I care about you, Prompto. We all do. So please, tell us, tell me, if you ever need anything.” Prompto freezes, definitely not expecting such a heartfelt reaction from Ignis.  
“Uh, yeah! Of course dude. I’ll tell you if I need anything, I promise.” He sounds so upbeat and emotional that Ignis can’t help but reach over and, miraculously, hold Prompto in his arms. Prompto freezes but quickly settles into the hug and hugs back. “God, I really needed this. Thanks, Iggy.” Ignis leans back, arms still wrapped around Prompto, and smiles.  
“Of course. I’m happy to help.” Prompto’s breathing gets sharper and Ignis can tell something’s wrong. Prompto picks up on this and reassures him.  
“Don’t worry I’m fine, no pain here! But, uh,” he sounds nervous. Ignis squeezes him a little bit, not enough to hurt.  
“But what? What’s wro-” Ignis can’t finish his sentence because Prompto is kissing him.  
Prompto is kissing him.  
He’s kissing him.  
Shit.  
Prompto starts to pull away, but Ignis moves forward and kisses him back.  
It’s about time, they both think.

They pull away, out of breath and laughing quietly.  
“Fuck dude, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that. That was okay, right? I wasn’t reading into anything wrong, or,” Ignis kisses him again. “I’m hoping that means it was okay.”  
“It was more than okay, believe me.”  
“You guys are gross.” Noct’s voice comes from the top bunk to his left. Gladio snorts and Prompto hides his face in Ignis’s chest.

Yeah, this was definitely more than okay.


End file.
